


Reverberations

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Burns, Cuddle, M/M, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), The Bentley is Female, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: After the bombs fall in 1941, Crowley finds he is in need of more care than for the burns on his feet.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Reverberations

**Author's Note:**

> Another amazing fic prompt! This is courtesy of @Euge.rs, who requested Aziraphale and Crowley accidentally share a bed and lots of teddy bear cuddles. 
> 
> So needless to say we ended up in 1941 and snuggling. 🥰 I hope you enjoy!

London, 1941.

The bombs had been dropping on the city for hours. It would seem that the pilots had decided that the whole of London would be their target, in lieu of following orders. Crowley could be to blame, his last minute demonic intervention causing one bomber to stray from his path, and more happened to follow. Crowley blamed it on Nazi stupidity. If Crowley was a snake, it would be even worse to deal with the noises that were happening. It would be a small consolation that his hearing was garbage in his serpentine form, but the vibrations of the bombs dropping would wrack his skull to the point of a migraine, or worse, a concussion. Nevermind factoring in his other heightened senses, he was better off human than being able to taste the blood in the air from the tip of his forked tongue. So having actual human ears and listening to the air raid sirens blaring, and the bombs falling so closely… That consolation shrunk considerably in value as his ears were ringing, and his head was throbbing. This was turning into quite the rough night. 

Not to mention the bottom of his feet hurt like hell from prancing through a church to save his best friend. It singed at first, like hot sand at the beach, and gradually he knew he was getting blisters and burns. Was it worth it? Yeah, possibly. To see Aziraphale so grateful at his arrival, to have Aziraphale save him from the bomb blast… His head started hurting after that though.

“Lift home?” He’d offered, handing Aziraphale his books and walking out of the demolished church. He didn’t stop to take in Aziraphale’s expression, surprised at the satchel that he now held in his hands. Everything hurt… His head, his feet, the bombings and the sirens all at once. He had to make it to the Bentley, get out of the church rubble to see just how bad the damage was from the holy grounds.

“Crowley… Wait. Let me drive.” Aziraphale offered, “I know the- I mean how to steer but I’ll get us there. I’m not too far and your poor feet.”

Crowley felt his eye twitch at the thought and looked from the car to Aziraphale and back a moment before sighing. The Bentley was nearing 20 years old. It was still a baby, and Crowley was still overprotective of it. But he was also in no state to drive… He had to give a little.

“One scratch… I get to discorporate you.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Aziraphale held his hand out for the key, waiting expectantly.

“Key’s in the car.”

“Crowley! What if someone were to steal it!”

“Steal my car?” Crowley smirked, “Steal  _ my  _ car, Angel? Honestly.” He gave a laugh and got into the passenger side, slipping shoes off to investigate the damage. Aziraphale gently placed the books in the back before sitting in the driver’s seat. Apparently the Bently was unsure about this as well, and would have to do a little helping on it’s own.

“Alright. Two hands on the wheel. Adjust the mirrors. Keep your eyes on the road.” Aziraphale spoke to himself, gripping the wheel. He had to focus, pep himself up and concentrate very hard. He touched his foot on the gas and yelped as the Bently flew down the road. Crowley snarled and Aziraphale pumped at the breaks.

“Oh my!” Aziraphale gasped, foot now off the gas.The car continued even without Aziraphale’s command, driving them toward the bookshop.

“Just… Let go. She’ll get us there.”

“Oh it’s a  _ she _ ?” Aziraphale smiled and touched the wheel, “My apologies, Madame.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. He let out an overly dramatic sigh, mainly trying to hide the fondness that he was feeling toward the Angel behind the wheel. It was an odd sight, something he’d never seen, even with horse and wagon. He was hurting too bad, from head to toe to even give it a second thought though. Crowley leaned down and pulled a barefoot up, nose wrinkling at the blisters and a hiss escaping through clenched teeth. He didn’t dare touch. Holy burns on demon skin needed practiced hands, and Aziraphale had helped him on more than one occasion. There were quite a few occasions throughout history where he unknowingly touched a holy relic, and Aziraphale’s gentle hands would heal his wounds. Before it was his hands, touching a relic in Rome. Those soft hands brushing down his palms, his plush lips whispering words… Crowley shivered thinking of the touch.

“Ah! Here we are. Marvelous machine this is, Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled and touched a hand to the wheel, stroking over the leather thoughtfully. The Bentley’s engine purred and she shut off.

“C’mon, Angel…” Crowley opened his door, stepping out and nearly falling over. He cling onto the door and hissed at the pain of walking. The blisters were growing worse than they had been at the church, giving them rest seemed to allow them to get even more painful.

“Crowley, let me help you!” Aziraphale got out of the car and walked around purposefully, holding his hand down. Crowley looked from it up to those innocent blues and his cheeks turned pink.

“Thanks, Angel.” He mumbled, ducking his head to his under his hat. Aziraphale pulled him up and put his arm over his shoulder, dipping down to hook Crowley’s legs over his other arm. It was effortless, really, but Crowley felt a sense of protectiveness as well. Crowley cursed his human heart as it began to beat harder against his chest.

“There we go! Like a blushing bride.” Aziraphale grinned. Crowley’s face turned even redder and he took his arm from around Aziraphale's shoulders, crossing them.

“Your lucky no one is around to see this.” He snapped, embarrassed. Aziraphale let out a chuckle and used his hip to close the door, carrying Crowley to the shop. He nodded to the door and it opened, allowing the pair to enter.

Aziraphale glanced back and the door shut and locked obediently. Pleased they wouldn’t be interrupted, he continued to carry Crowley back through the shop to the couch in the back. The familiar scent of leather and parchment wafted through them both, comforting and lovingly surrounding them like an old friend.

“Here we go.” Aziraphale lay Crowley down and instantly moved away. There was a sink and stove, where Aziraphale put some water on to boil. He filled a small bucket with water, dipping a cloth into it and checking the temperature. It happened to be the perfect temperature, but that was because Aziraphale willed it to be.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley looked up at the ceiling, tipping his hat off and holding it over his face, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Aziraphale stepped over and set the bucket and cloth down. He pulled a stool over, but stood and took his jacket off. He then proceeded to roll up his sleeves, “You saved me  _ again _ , Crowley… I should be sorry. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this if I hadn’t been there.”

“You know it’s not about this.”

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” Aziraphale frowned, settling himself on the stool, “Now sit up and give me your foot.” Aziraphale was not going to entertain the idea again, and Crowley had learned over the millennia to mute his apology until a later, more appropriate time.

Crowley glanced out from behind his hat and let out a heavy breath. He sat up and looked down at Aziraphale, sitting on a stool, sleeves rolled up, and waiting patiently. He was such a vision…

Crowley lifted his foot up in front of him and watched Aziraphale work. The wet cloth was cool against his aching foot, the wetness seeping around and water dripping down, back to the bucket from where it came. Crowley winced and closed his eyes.

Soft words were whispered from Aziraphale as he ran his hand down over the cloth, removing any indication there had been an injury there in the first place. Crowley shifted, feeling the warmth spreading over his foot and through his ankle. It spread up into his calf where the muscles contracted and then relaxed like a deep tissue massage. It wasn’t necessarily a part of his healing, but Aziraphale had done it to his hands before and it  _ was _ , he hated to admit, heavenly.

“You’re spoiling me, Angel.” Crowley said pointedly. He let out a pleasant hum as his foot was given one final, comforting squeeze then released from the now dry cloth. Aziraphale’s cheeks turned pink, taking Crowley’s other foot. He hadn’t planned on giving him so much attention, but he couldn’t help but make Crowley feel more relaxed. The last time they met it was rushed, and the time before that well… It was heated.

“Other foot, now.” Aziraphale offered a kind smile. He dipped the cloth back into the water and copied the ritual into Crowley’s other foot. The blisters and wounds were soaked up, then Aziraphale whispered again softly. Crowley hummed sleepily as he felt his leg relaxing into the unintentional massage. He never felt better.

“Thanks…” Crowley yawned and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Aziraphale dumped the cloth back into the bucket and stood.

“You’re welcome-“

Aziraphale was cut off as another bomb landed, shaking the shop and causing Aziraphale to dump water on the floor. He gave a shout and cursed at the mess, his pants soaked through.

“Oh honestly you’d think- Crowley…?”

Crowley’s legs had bent up onto the couch, his jaw between his knees. He grabbed at his head and winced painfully. The vibrations, the bombs were causing him more of a headache than running through a church. His eyes clenched shut and a painful groan left his throat.

“Crowley?!” Aziraphale dropped the bucket to the ground without a second thought of the mess it would make, and was sitting at his side instantly, “Crowley what’s wrong?”

“Bombs… The explosions. My head can’t take it. Hurts.” Crowley whispered. It had happened all through the first World War as well. The memory haunted him, waking up in 1915 after a short (few year) nap. He had looked to the sky, the ocean of Zeppelins that blotted out the skies and stars over London, and the countless bombs that were dropped down onto the unexpecting city. It was just too painful, the reverberations from the explosions went straight through him.

“Lay down…” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed as he touched Crowley’s head tentatively, “Let me help you.”

“No, Aziraphale I should go…”

“What? Go home and have the potential of discorporation by a German bomber on your way home? Or when you get home? I won't allow it. You may be out of commission, but I am prepared to battle! I  _ was _ a soldier, you know.”

“Yes, yes.” Crowley groaned, laying down and stretching out into the couch, “You tell me more than I need to hear.”

Aziraphale smiled brightly and stood to clean the mess, “You often need a-” He stopped the thought, gasping as his hand was grabbed. He looked down to where Crowley’s hand was holding him back, eyes wandering up to catch Crowley’s. They were entirely yellow, pupils thin slits, showing how excruciating the pain Crowley was in.

“Stay…” Crowley pleaded, his brow furrowed and eyes closed, “Just… Stay. Please.”

Aziraphale looked back and gave a snap, cleaning up the bucket and spilled water behind him. Miracles were much easier to let slide when there was a war happening, which was a terrible truth. His hand kept hold of Crowley and he sat down, looking to where they touched.

“I’ll sit and read here, if that is alright with-”

“No… I um…” Crowley’s face turned a deep red and he leaned up on his elbow, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand, “Can you lay here… with me?”

Aziraphale’s face matched Crowley’s in redness and his gaze snapped up to Crowley. Was he serious? Was this a 5900 year old joke that he was missing the punchline to? Crowley wanted him to lay beside him as he slept… Aziraphale racked his brain for an explanation, an excuse, any reason that this would be either acceptable or even unacceptable but he stayed silent as he thought about it. The more he thought though, the more he regretted the silence.

“You don’t have to.” Crowley took his hand back.

Aziraphale raised his hand and in a snap, the couch expanded. It doubled in size, extra padding and fluffy white pillows were added. An extra warm blanket or two were at their feet, ready to cover their tired bodies. It had seemed he’d made up his mind. It wasn’t about acceptable or unacceptable with Crowley. It was about feeling, and doing what he felt he  _ wanted  _ to do. If he’d learned anything from this wiley serpent over the millennia, it was that sometimes you can follow your heart and not your brain.

Aziraphale adjusted himself and took the blankets, pulling them over the pair and laid back onto the pillows. Crowley looked down at him and swallowed hard, unsure where to go from here. He knew what he needed, what he wanted, but this was Aziraphale and well… He was Crowley.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Angel…”

“With you? I don’t think I ever have.” Aziraphale grinned, a little bit of his inner bastard showing.

“I need my head… My jaw... I mean the whole… It needs padding. To fight the vibrations…”

“Oh is that all?” Aziraphale stretched an arm out, “I’m sure I can manage. I’ve been told I make an excellent pillow.”

Crowley’s eye twitched, “By  _ who?! _ ” He snapped, leaning over the Angel. Aziraphale grinned wider and let out a laugh, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“No one… I was trying to lighten the conversation and make this comfortable for you.”

“You really are a bastard.” Crowley smiled. He swallowed and slowly laid his head onto Aziraphale’s chest, feeling the plush of his body underneath him. The warmth of his chest seeped through to his head, which did help with the pain. Then he felt it. Aziraphale wrapped his arm around Crowley’s shoulders, his hand coming to touch his hair gently. His strong muscles were flexed against him, and the strong, thick fingers held his head close to his warm chest. 

Crowley was a moment away from wrapping his legs around Aziraphale’s body and hugging him completely, like a child with a giant teddy bear they never wanted to let go of. It was an absolute delight, being held by Aziraphale like this, and if Crowley were a cat, he would purr. 

“Is this alright?” Aziraphale’s voice perked up in the silence. Crowley nodded and his eyes started to droop, exhaustion from pain taking over his mind.

“Warm… Safe.” He muttered, “Keep my head safe… Want to be safe… With you...” 

Crowley couldn’t get another word out before he fell asleep, his heavy breathing and soft snoring giving Aziraphale the knowledge that he was really asleep. Aziraphale stroked through his short red hair, watching it flitter through his fingers and fall back where it wanted. It was the greatest gift that Crowley had ever bestowed up on him, this moment in time. He permission, and the opportunity to touch Crowley like this, just as he had always wanted. For the first time he didn’t care to read a book, or listen to Mozart. He felt like he was in a dream. Crowley’s breathing, holding onto him securely as the sirens sounded. His eyelids were fluttering, his brow furrowing in the pain that he felt. He stroked his hand over his head, passing a small miracle over him so he would dream of better days.

As the bombs continued to land through the night, Aziraphale stayed up and held Crowley tightly, making sure he would feel no pain from the aftershocks of the destruction happening outside. He leaned down nervously at one point and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, blue eyes closing and he whispered softly.

“I’ll always protect you Crowley…” He sighed into his hair, “Even if it’s from yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @gotham_girl_88 for your beta work!! 😍
> 
> Find me on IG @mrsmoosie35


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